


Destiel Fanfic Season 15 Episode 11: Cursed Or Knot

by Violetlyvanilla



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O verse, Alpha Castiel, Alternate Universe, Can be read as stand alone canon fic or as part of series, Capricious gods, Classical Literature Parallels, Dubious consent due to curse trope, Fluff, Gods and Monsters, Knotting, M/M, Omega Dean, Omegaverse, Plot Twist, Tristan and Isolde, destiel fanfic season 15, fuck or die curse, mythological creatures, romance tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-12 00:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20162497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetlyvanilla/pseuds/Violetlyvanilla
Summary: Shortly after their first kiss, Dean and Castiel are placed under an unusual curse which provides them with alpha and omega characteristics. The reappearance of the angel Inias and his tragic lover Tristan harkens the emergence of an insatiable old god. Cursed to knot or die, Dean and Castiel must overcome the influence of chaotic appetites.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **=❤=Credits=❤=**  
Artist: Evelyn (anaturalsuperfan) link to come  
Beta: DeanKelly (angelofsaturday) with many many thanks  
Banner: Reaperlove  
Author: [VioletlyVanilla](https://violetlyvanilla.tumblr.com/)  
**About Destiel Fanfic Season 15:**
> 
> Welcome to the Destiel Fanfic Season 15 Project! This series will comprise of 20 episodes (as separate works under the DestielFanficSeason15 collection) posting every Thursday (or so) for the next 20 weeks during the hiatus between season 14 and 15. This project is a collaboration between a group of authors, artists and betas. Each week different authors and artists will take part, with various configuration of authors and artists working in teams for each episode. 
> 
> The endnotes will be updated with a link to the next episode once it posts, and you can always see all works in the collection [here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DestielFanficSeason15). Please also consider joining us on tumblr at [destielfanficseason16](https://destielfanficseason16.tumblr.com/) and [destielwritersroom](https://destielwritersroom.tumblr.com/).

=❤=❤=❤=

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Is there anything more beautiful than new lovers in repose? I would dare say there is not. Our story begins in a meadow, in a field, by the roadside, where an angel and a hunter sleeps. 

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Castiel had wings and though they were invisible he could close them over Dean when the dew fell. So that lying naked with his back pressed against Castiel's chest, they could both watch the stars fade in the sky as the sun rose up. The brightening horizon swallowed the last glimmer of far off light and Dean was warm and comfortable. His limbs were floating weightlessly in ease and satisfaction and Castiel's legs were nice to rub against, a little hairy, cuddly even. Dean had never really figured guys legs to be cuddly until now. Castiel's were shapely, with strong knees and thighs he could mould his hands to in appreciation. He didn't quite have the energy though, they were both puddles of lethargy, it had been a long night and angels, full of grace or not, had incredible stamina. Castiel’s knot had been sizeable and it took some time for it to wane enough that Dean could slide off it with relative ease. Castiel helped Dean stand up, infinite care in his small gestures, and attentive as he watched Dean limp cheerfully towards the car. 

There was a trail of clothes leading back to the Impala and Dean and Castiel tracked them down item by item, maybe a couple of things got swapped around but at least they were both dressed pretty much by the time they got to the car. And if beneath Castiel’s trenchcoat, under that suit, he was wearing Dean’s underwear so what. So even better. 

Dean hopped into the driver's seat and Castiel rode shotgun. 

"Breakfast?" Dean offered. 

Castiel smiled, his mouth quirking up, eyes creasing up at the corners with delight. "That sounds wonderful Dean." 

Dean whistled as he drove, Castiel checked his cell and messaged Sam that they were on their way and making good time. 

"I'm gonna buy you waffles with bacon and maple syrup," Dean said. 

"You're in a good mood, Dean," Castiel grinned, his eyes looking down at his hands in his lap. "Did you sleep well?" 

"Yeah, I guess," Dean smiled, squinting a little into the rising sun. "Nothing special, but I do feel good now that you mention it." 

"Maybe it's all the Erotes we've defeated in the last few weeks, lifting our morale," Castiel suggested helpfully. "And the world seems to go on, regardless of Chuck's well, chucking things out of the window, as they say in Australia." 

Cas had done an accent, Dean's mind screamed at him, it was really funny, so funny it was cute, so cute it was sexy. 

"You ever been to Australia?" Dean asked, flustered. 

"I am fond of the music," Castiel nodded, like that was an answer. 

"Yeah, AC/DC's great," Dean replied, hand going to the glovebox, trying to fumble for the tape. 

"I was referring to the music of the traditional custodians of the land," Castiel gave a gasp when Dean's hand missed the glovebox all together. "Dean! That's not a cassette." 

Dean swerved the car a little over the line, over corrected and over compensated by pulling his hand back and grabbing hold of the gear stick like a man looking for a handhold while dangling off a cliff. Castiel placed his own hands over his knees, his thighs clenched, Dean had touched him 'there'. The blush flared over his skin so quick and hard, it almost hurt like a sunburn. His penis felt suddenly restricted in his suit pants. The human body was a strange machine. 

They ignored each other, looking out the window or peering at the side of the road as if staring would conjure up convenient roadside diners and an end to the embarrassing saga of 'The Accidental Crotch Touch of Dean and Cas, Best Buddies, Sorta, Vol. One.' 

Volume one hundred and one more like, thought Dean ruefully. Dean rested his elbow on the wound down window and proffered his temple into the bracket of some sort of abortive finger gun. This was so painfully weird, this thing between them. Ever since the kiss after the whole fairy godmother imaginary friend business, things had been fermenting between them, mulling like stewed grapes, maybe they were gonna get wine or just very off fruit juice. Dean didn't know what to make of it, except his fingers were still tingling from that soft, warm, firm, solid, meaty accidental squeeze. That was Cas' dick. Dean blinked hard. That was angel cock beneath suit pants and trench coat tail and it had felt briefly hot and familiar. Like he had touched it many times before, like he ought to just park his hand there, like his hand had known what to do next even though his brain was wailing sirens and ultimate high alert.

Dean felt a little damp in his pants and he couldn’t work out where his underwear had gone. He was soaking through the half tucked in tail of his flannel shirt. Was it some sort of nervous crotch sweat? That sounded unappealing. Wondered if excess wetness in his pants would be off putting for Cas. 

"Isn't it interesting how the bacon enhances the flavour of the syrup, though one is sweet and the other is savoury," Castiel said apropos of nothing. 

Dean sighed with relief. "Yeah totally, and you know the whole coming outta a tree trunk thing, that's cool too."

"Technically the maple syrup is a type of fructose excreted by the plant as a sort of band aid to prevent disease. Like blood or scabs when a wound heals. It can harden into amber like crystals in the cold of a Canadian winter." 

If they talked about trees enough, maybe he would stop feeling so damp down there, thought Dean. 

"Yeah, sounds delicious," Dean steered the car down a freeway ramp and turned into the parking lot of a miraculously convenient diner. "Oozey tree scabs, that makes breakfast sound sexy."

"I am not sexually aroused by the notion," Castiel said primly. 

"Oh yeah," Dean replied but swallowed the words 'so what do you find hot Cas?' because accidental car groping was totally not his fault but if he was gonna have a heart to heart with his angelic friend about preferences and, Chuck Forbid (and Fuck Chuck by the way), arousal, Dean was gonna need a full stomach and maybe another decade to get ready for that conversation. 

Castiel paused at the counter and studied the theme of the restaurant's decor. They were still in the farming belt, so the idea of the place seemed to be focused on Wheat (capitalised). Great bundles of it hung and lay about, while rusty farm implements lent, well not charm exactly, but something to the atmosphere. 

Already the motel they'd spent last night in was a distant memory and Dean couldn't quite recall if they'd shared a room or been apart. Shame really, he had a distinct impression that he had slept well. There was colour in Castiel's cheeks and a general air of happiness despite their awkward dancing about conversation. Castiel stared at the milk jugs for vases and cowboy hats for paintings aesthetic, his face glowing in the morning light coming through the big bay windows as he smiled.

"Hey guys," the waiter, or waitress, who had a cool androgyny thing going on said. "What can I get you love birds?"

Dean frowned and Castiel gave the server his best confused baby blue steel. 

"Wow if that isn't the biggest love bite I've ever seen," a pen pointed to Dean's neck. "Your boyfriend's got serious teeth." 

"What? Bed bugs," Dean flicked his cell phone camera around to take a look. 

"Bed bear more like," came the incredulous and helpful commentary. 'Sally', as their name badge read, looked bored and didn’t hold back entertaining themselves by blatantly pointing things out. 

"I do not believe teddy bears bite or that Dean would travel with one," Castiel said. "So it is infeasible, even considering possession of objects is possible, that what he has is a bear or love bite. Dean did not sleep with a lover last night." 

Dean shook his head. "Hey, I coulda gotten lucky. I'm a lucky kinda guy." 

"You went to the motel and we sat and watched television and I did not watch you sleep until the sun rose," Castiel cleared his throat. "Nothing untoward happened, no bugs." 

"Then this is ..." Sally looked unconvinced. 

"Eczema," Castiel said. 

Dean pulled his shirt forward, staring down through the gap all the way to his abdomen. "Yeah, must be, goes all the way down there." 

Sally snorted and brought them the menus without further comments. 

After receiving their food some time later, Dean and Castiel ate in relative silence and both were relieved when Sam called again and told them he had a case.

“As far as X-Files go, this one is three times as weird as any of the others in the news,” Sam said on speaker phone as they left the diner. 

“XXX?” Dean smirked, talking as he expertly backed out of the parking lot. 

“Sure,” Sam humoured him. “Whatever. Two guys driving down the road …” 

“That does not sound very unusual,” Castiel interjected, looked between himself and Dean. “Were they very good friends?” 

“I don’t know about that, it’s not in the news article,” Sam hesitated. “Would … would you like them to be?” 

“Perhaps they are committed friends,” Castiel said in a low longing voice. “Who like each other very much.” 

“They banging?” Dean asked. 

“It’s not really an article about their greatest love story ever told,” Sam sighed. “Guys can we just let me brief you two?” 

Castiel nodded, then realising that Sam couldn’t see the gesture said a positively affirmative. “Please go ahead Sam, we are paying full attention.” 

“Spontaneous combustion, one of them burst into fire, almost made the car explode. The other rushed him into the hospital. Where staff saw the friend, uh, buddy, lover, I don’t know, companion run ‘glowing hands of light’ over the victim. Then, he stopped burning and miraculously survived. They are in a hospital about an hour away from you guys.” 

“So an angel,” Dean stated. “Healing hands. Sounds angelic to me. Cas, you got any compatriots here abouts?” 

“There are very few angels left even in heaven let alone on earth, none that I am certain of,” Castiel shook his head. “I would very much like to follow this lead, any angels who could be found now must be protected and if possible, brought over to our side.” 

“And what side exactly is that?” Dean asked, Sam looked uncertain on the small screen cupped in Castiel’s hands. 

“The side that’s not Chuck’s,” Castiel said easily. 

Sam grinned. 

“Yeah, okay,” Dean nodded. 

“The angel, the creature we think healed the man who burned, do you think he is very sad about his lover being injured?” Castiel asked with some concern. 

Sam was taken aback. “You do realise Cas, that Rowena and I we are somewhere around the equatorial waters right at the moment and if not for some very clever spellwork I couldn’t even get international roaming to allow me to make this phone call. I’m really just going off what articles I can find on the world wide weird at the moment. So I really can’t say what the state of the relationship between the two people, one man, one possible man, might be.” 

“I think he would be very upset,” Castiel said sincerely. “Dean, please hurry, I would like to soothe his heartache. Humans are very frail and to see his beloved burn would be a great grief indeed.” 

“Urgh,” Dean groaned. “It’s upsetting me, the romantic crap you spin in your head. Human angel tragic love story? Why don’t those things ever end well?” 

To Dean’s annoyance Castiel simply shook his head and said. “They never do, Dean.” 

That was a cop out, thought Dean. They were a human and an angel and they’d been through a heck, no a ‘hell’, of a lot together. And they weren’t weeping like love lorne losers were they? Him and Cas, they weren’t communicative, or confirmed, or candid by any means. But they cared. And that was the most important ‘c’, the biggest ‘c’ there is. Though he felt a bit a big ‘c’ himself for thinking it and not saying it out aloud. 

“I enjoyed the bacon waffles very much, thank you for breakfast Dean,” Castiel said when the call ended and they were somewhere past the Wheat zone and into the Corn zone.

Dean couldn’t help but smile back and feel a twinge of smugness. That lovely warm feeling that was pressing on his chest like honey wanting to spill from his guts, like syrup from some tree awoken from slumber by spring, it wasn’t something he could just tell. Castiel didn’t need to be told. They had kissed on the last job hadn’t they. So now promises of love were gonna be told the Dean Winchester way. The best way. 

Because Dean Winchester said ‘I love you’ with bacon and syrup. Butteriness and sticky sweet sentiments told in brunch. 

Castiel looked satiated as he basked in the sunlight turning the car into a glasshouse. His cheeks rose pink and his mouth blush peach. He looked good. Dean turned back to the road and kept driving.


	2. Chapter 2

The man sitting by the bedside had wavy black hair, tossed over the shape of his head like a halo of darkness, the way the angels in Renaissance paintings were often depicted. The afternoon sun glossing over the curls with gold and fire. He was holding the patient's bandaged hand in his and looked up from the book he was reading when Dean and Castiel entered. 

Agent Khaled and Agent Marshmallow were just about to introduce themselves when the man stood up and said "Castiel?" 

The mutual recognition was instantaneous. Castiel answered in a tight hoarse voice: "Inias." 

Inias' face was sincere with delight. Castiel stared at him for a brief second, Dean suspected he was beholding Inias with more than his eyes and not in just this dimension. Castiel marched up to Inias and then firmly grasped him in a hug. 

"It is good to see you Inias," Castiel said gravely. 

Inias smiled crookedly and patted Castiel on his back. "I as well." 

"How did you come to be here," Castiel asked. "I thought all the angels were recalled to heaven to keep it from failing."

"I disobeyed," Inias said simply, without fanfare. "I may have learnt a thing or two from an ex-garrison commander of mine." 

Castiel blushed, Dean loved the way Castiel ducked his head and looked straight ahead when he was flustered by an attack of modesty. 

"I am glad, though I cannot claim credit," Castiel said. "The path of free will is not easy but I trust your journey will be worthwhile, as mine has been and continues so." 

Dean plopped into a navy coloured armchair. The sort of dark blue grey charcoal that screamed easy-to-keep-clean but in actual fact looked perpetually dusty the moment it rolled off the assembly lines. Wear and tear didn't so much as cake on it as was already embedded in every fibre of its making. It was a sensible hospital chair, with the sort of handrests you could accomplish tortured naps on. Dean listened to the dialogue between Castiel and Inias with vague appreciation for the more stilted and formal manner in which angels spoke to one another. He wondered if Castiel and Inias had served in the United Kingdom together, like the angel in that Good Omens show he watched on Sam's laptop a few weeks ago. Dean thought about his sensible FBI shoes, that looked comfortable but actually pinched in the toes. He wondered about the man laying on the hospital bed, covered in bandages on every visible skin surface that was not covered by bedsheets or hospital gown. The bandages went beneath those flimsy bits of fabric as well. It looked painful but he was sleeping like a Disney princess, all slow even breathing and with a sort of pretty slumbery air in the gentle spread of his hands at his sides. Who was this guy who made an angel fall from the skies? 

Inias looked over at Dean as if he had heard his thought. Perhaps he did, as far as Dean was aware Inias was still full battle angel, without the burnt wings and lost grace and the myriad sacrifices Castiel had made along his road to redemption which Dean had for so long mistook as his own road to destruction. 

"This is Tristan, the man who made me believe, when I lost all belief," Inias said, walking over to hold the sleeping patient's hand. Their fingers slipping together with the ease of practice. 

Castiel tilted his head. 

"We met not long ago but it feels like forever," Inias said. "It was instant, the moment I saw him walking along the side of the road, weeks ago. When I let him into my car and we shook hands, I felt it then, this human and I share a personal bond." 

Dean shifted uncomfortably. Castiel just stared at his former comrade with calm eyes. 

"We must have driven through America and Canada together three times by now, dealing with the increase in supernatural disasters across the country. We tried to fix what we could, met some friends along the way, I suppose you could call us hunters now," Inias finished off with a smile. "But I like to think of it as roadtrip buddies."

Castiel nodded. "I'm glad you have a friend." 

"He is ... more than a friend," it was Inias' turn to look bashful, Dean groaned in his armchair. "I have succumbed,Castiel, to lust and fornication." 

Dean didn't know where to look in the room, Inias' passionate expression or Castiel's heated face. 

"They never told us it could be so beautiful and so loving," Inias said, his hands almost trembling and seeking out the comfort of his lover's wrist in the bed. "Like divine love but is love that feels divine." 

"I ... I think I understand," Castiel finally managed to say. "I am glad that you have someone you love who loves you back." 

Dean stood up. "Not to kill the mood of angels in love or anything, but we gotta talk about the, you know, whoomph!" 

Inias squirmed at Dean's sound effect and exploding hand gesture. 

"There's not much to tell, we were travelling into this state, talking and driving in the car. He looked at me and said he felt hot. Then caught fire. I didn't sense any magic. He was badly injured, I pulled over on the side of the road and put out the flames with my wings, then I healed him. The damage was extensive and I couldn't fix it all, barely hung on to his life. I had to heal him again in ER. Even now, every day, I pass a little of my grace to him when we join hands. He is almost mended, his bandages will come off in a few days and he is no longer in pain, though he still does not speak. You should hear his voice Castiel, it is the most lovely voice." 

"I would caution you, my friend, not to pour all your grace into saving your partner," Castiel said with a straight face. "It is perilous."

Dean looked at Castiel flatly. 

"I know how that sounds coming from me," Castiel rolled his eyes. 

"I appreciate the advice," Inias said. "I recall us debating what we give over to mortals back in the garrison days. You were always cautious and wise Castiel, but love makes us braver than wise." 

Dean gave Castiel a signal, pointing at the door with his head. "Yeah, okay, we can see for you it's all heart eyes and flying cherubs in here, so uh we'll go and get a room and come back tomorrow. Maybe he'll be able to talk to us, maybe he knows something you don't?" 

"Tristan and I have no secrets from each other," Inias said proudly. "Yes, come back tomorrow, he may be awake and I think he will find his voice any day now."

Castiel nodded and Dean looked at the clumsy shape of a hand on the bed and wondered how this Tristan would look when the bandages came off. Whether Inias, as an angel, could see past scars. He supposed he could, after all Castiel always looked at Dean like he saw something beautiful. 

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3 

“Do you think they could go on after all that?” Dean asked Castiel. The angel was driving while Dean booked their motel for the evening. 

“Adversity brings people together,” Castiel said blandly. 

“You and me ought to be glued at the hips then,” Dean said, tapping away on his phone. “Thick as thieves.” 

Castiel nodded as if what Dean had said made perfect sense to him. “We are often dishonest with one another, well intentioned but deceitful nonetheless. Perhaps more so to ourselves than each other.” 

Dean looked at Castiel askance. 

“Hey pull over,” Dean said, feeling a flush of something overcome him. “It’s real stifling in here, I gotta get some air.” 

“Your face is pink,” Castiel said, turning the car into the shoulder. 

Dean ran out before the engine had been turned off. He sprinted just to feel the wind burn on his heated face. It made him feel more flighty and unsettled. Castiel chased him. They ran into the trees, at least Castiel had the foresight to lock the car. There was moisture dripping down Dean’s thighs, making him feel clammy and antsy at once. When Castiel grabbed him by the shoulders, nostrils flaring, Dean felt a gush of it ooze out of somewhere indefinable down his body. He suspected he didn’t want to know what secretions were coming out of where. 

“I can smell you, like cake that wants to have sex,” Castiel gasped, his eyes flashing a vivid blue, like lasers or werewolves in that wolf pack show with the hot young people that Dean would never admit to watching or liking. 

It occurred for a split second to question why he was self-lubricating anally and how Castiel was getting flashing blue eyes when he had no wings, but a ripple of heat made him buckle to his knees and part Castiel’s trenchcoat and bury his face in search of the knot. He didn’t question why Castiel, angel of the lord, was now sporting an erection with a bulbous, monstrously large vein that bulged his penis out in the middle. Only cooed at it and shaped his mouth around it with satisfaction. Dean’s brain gave one last protest of ‘what the actual fuck’ before all thoughts fizzled out and Castiel mounted his face. 

If he could have spoken, if he could have made any other sound than choking delight, he would have said “My alpha”. 

“I want to kink inside you,” Castiel stuttered, panting as Dean twisted his tongue around the impossible girth. 

Dean nodded enthusiastically, though the wording sounded wrong. 

“I do not suppose I want to tie my genitals into a knot and then insert it into you, I am not sure that would be possible even for me,” Castiel said frowning and groaning. “But something in my head is telling me to ‘knot’ you, to ‘mate’ and ‘breed’. I am not sure how that is possible given our sex but nonetheless, it is an urge to paint the inside of you with my seminal fluids. But without the use of a paint brush.” 

Dean pulled off Castiel. “I wanna turn around and bend and show you my ‘opening’. That okay with you Cas?”

“It’s called presenting,” Castiel said with a faraway voice. “Yes, that is the terminology. Something about wolves.” 

“I think its a curse,” Dean gasped, arching his back. “I mean I’m happy to fuck your brains out but this is making me wanna do it a certain way. I wanna see your face covered in my slick.” 

“That refers to the lubrication of your sex organs,” Castiel inserted a finger, Dean moaned and Castiel withdrew the digit and gazed at the glossy liquid gathering at the tip. “The purpose of that fluid is to allow admittance of my enlarged penis.” 

They exchanged a look. “Yeah, sounds like a curse. I mean, can you have a look back there and tell me I haven’t like grown another hole or something?”

“Apart from increased elasticity of the muscle mass and self-lubrication, no Dean, you have not grown a vagina. Or vagina like organ.” 

“Cool, that’s uh good news,” Dean shivered as pleasure crested his body, making him suck in his stomach and push out his butt. Castiel had put in more fingers. “Real good to know. So um can you say something for me?” 

“What would you like me to say Dean?” 

“I wanna hear,” Dean huffed out a breath. “Wanna hear ‘my omega’.” 

“You wish me to recite the ancient alphabet?” Castiel questioned. 

“Not the letters in between, just call me omega, let me submit to you, lemme call you ‘alpha’,” Dean let out a loud sound, between a howl and an exclamation as Castiel finally pressed into him. “That okay by you?” 

“Yes, Dean, yes, omega,” Castiel sighed and rutted hard against Dean’s trembling body. 

Like pushing through butter, like slipping into paradise, like opening up for divine glory. Dean’s eyelids fluttered and they lost themselves in the pleasure of it, animalistic and wild. The suspicion of a curse passing, there was nothing but the knot, its consumption and constraining. Nothing but the knotting. 

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Dean showered in the motel, noticing a deep ache inside himself. It was such a gentle ache and it came with a shudder of pleasure as if his body was remembering delights that his conscious mind couldn’t recall. Castiel was sitting on one of the twin beds, flicking through channels, signing into their streaming account. They had ordered pizza, the garlicky scent warming up the small room and making it cozy. Dean felt famished. They sat together once Castiel found a show they both liked, stuffing their faces and saying nothing, staying up. Dean leaned into Castiel, their shoulders and arms touching. Castiel was warm and his trenchcoat smelled so good. Like candy and cinnamon. 

“I’m out of clean underwear,” Dean said. “Mind if I borrow yours?”

Castiel nodded. He did laundry now to conserve his grace. Castiel favoured having just a few pairs of cotton boxer briefs that he hand washed and dried overnight in the plethora of motels they stayed in. Castiel’s briefs came in white, black and grey, always looking neat and fresh. When Dean picked them out of Castiel’s duffle from the boot of the Impala, running back into the motel room because he was still in a towel, he sniffed the air. There’s a scent of crispy autumn leaves or maybe candied apples. 

“You using fancy fabric softener or something?” Dean asked Castiel who frowned in confusion. “Your um your underwear smells nice.” 

“I am pleased by the intermingling of our body odour,” Castiel tilted his head. “Is that a strange statement?” 

Dean shook his head. “I gotta say I feel the same way. Wanna go over there and rub my cheek all over your things. For some reason.” 

“Did we pull over and have sex on the way to this motel room?” Castiel blinked rapidly. 

“I thought we grabbed pizza,” Dean said hesitantly. “Did we?” 

“I know we kissed during the last case and that, in human culture, denotes romantic intentions, which we could fulfil via sexual expression,” Castiel said reasonably. “But my desires for you right now are hardly limited to human copulation. I wish to mate you. My incisors itch to bite into your scruff. Where is that exactly on a man?” 

“Back of my neck,” Dean shivered. “That’s where the mating bite goes. Fuck, how do I know that?”

Castiel stood up from the bed. “Dean, we need to google. Google the words ‘mating’ and ‘alpha’ and ‘omega’.” 

Dean pulled out his phone and when the search popped up his eyes popped out at the number of results. They sat down in shock together, scrolling frantically through the contents. 

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Inias prayed. Not to God or any deity, not to angels or demons, not even to himself. His prayer was remembering, the honouring of the past and belief in the future. There was one face that came to mind in those moments. A familiar face, the same face he saw in his lover but also belonged to someone he called friend. It was Castiel’s current vessel, the honest arch of high cheekbones, the sincere lift of the eyebrows, the intelligence and empathy in the eyes. If Inias was asked to draw the face of his beloved he would draw it with such benevolent characteristics that he first came to admire on his commander. It was a foible, he had known even back in the garrison days, to remember what an angel’s vessel looked like. Foolish to grow attached to a set of features or the straightness of shoulders or the strength of a masculine back. Castiel has had many vessels. Inias has had many vessels. It was like admiring the clouds that were stained by the light of a setting sun. Falling in love with transience. It was the sun, the grace beneath the facade that drew Inias into humble honouring of Castiel. Or was it? Was it the cunning, the determination, the recklessness, the unusualness of the other angel that had always kept Inias guessing that he fell for? That found him drawing his grace like a moth to the flame. But that could not be the case. Castiel was much depleted ever since his fall for the human Dean Winchester. There was hardly any grace left, yet ‘Castiel’ was there still, bigger even than before, more solid and real than before. He was almost human but also more angel than he ever was. A paradox and a perplexing problem that made Inias ponder and long for answers. Inias had risked everything to save Castiel in the past, intervened with Hester, turned his back on heaven. It was what the humans might call a crush, but angelically gigantum in scale. His lover Tristan had reminded Inias of Castiel. Perhaps that was why he pulled over on the freeway, that dark hair and those blue eyes, the cat like face with glittering jewels for eyes. Always the eyes, mesmerising and bottomless. Eyes that Inias quickly lost himself in, feeling nothing but love. Tristan reminded Inias of Castiel but Castiel’s sudden appearance made it plain that whatever Castiel was, he was not Inias’ former commander. 

Inias felt conflicted, wanting to save his mortal lover down to the very last shred of his own grace or listening to Castiel’s warning. His ominous words. 

“You cannot fill him up by emptying yourself out,” Castiel had said in Enochian. “You cannot be him for you.” 

Inias bowed his head, pressing Tristan’s hand between his palms, kissing the tips of bandaged fingers, and prayed. His prayer was a simple one, just one word. If his prayer was answered he would have counsel from the lover he trusted. 

“Wake.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Dean woke up with a headache but the morning light through the cracked motel window seemed to bask Castiel in a golden haze. The dust motes danced like tiny weightless angels in the air, spinning to fall onto Castiel’s hair. They had fallen asleep clothed but piled on the same bed. The other twin bed held the remnants of pizza boxes and a couple of beer bottles. They had had a conversation about something important but what that had been was too far away for Dean’s sleepy brain to grasp. 

Castiel opened his eyes. Cornflower blue, blue with a violet pink hue underneath, so beautiful and so delicately traced out in dark eyelashes and borne out by strong eyebrows. Dean sighed. 

“You okay Dean?” Castiel touched his hand to Dean’s cheek, his fingers tingled on Dean’s stubble. Like each hair was a conduit for lightning.

Dean swallowed and nodded. 

“You look a little pale,” Castiel said. “You need to be nourished omega.” 

The word made Dean shiver with happiness. 

“Just needa, uh, more protein,” Dean heard himself say. “Need your seed in my stomach, wanna have you stripe me on the inside.”

The words came tumbling obscene and titillating, they felt right, like honey on his throbbing tongue. He was throbbing everywhere, like a scene in a bad romance, an awful anticipation filled up his flesh, make him dizzy. He grabbed Castiel’s shoulder and Castiel grappled him back. Blunt nails sinking into heated skin. Dean parted his legs and weeped for fulfilment and Castiel took care of him as only his true alpha could. 

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Sam and Rowena’s flight had been delayed. Dean sat nursing a cup of coffee while Castiel browsed the airport bookshop shelves idly. There was a pleasant fullness inside Dean, the sort of glowy floaty feeling that came with good sex. Dean couldn’t quite remember having sex though. He thought he might have had a sex dream of some kind, the sort of dream that made him ache with longing for the dream to be reality. He couldn’t remember much of that morning except waking up in the motel room, realising they had slept past the alarms and driving at speed towards the airport. Sam and Rowena had returned form their Mediterranean cruise and were imminently about to touch down. Dean looked up as the flight arrival information updated. Castiel finished up at the register, watching with impassive eyes as a paperback was slipped inside a brown bag. 

“You look well Dean,” Castiel said as they rushed towards the arrivals gate. “You feeling better?” 

“Huh?” Dean was perplexed. 

“You were pale this morning but you seem better after a warm shower,” Castiel said. 

“Positively glowing,” Dean said with a smirk, he couldn’t remember their exchange of words that morning, but the comment about his paleness sounded familiar. “What do you say after we brief with Sam and Ro that we head back to the hospital and check up on Tristan and Inias.” 

That got a soft laugh from Castiel. 

“What did I say?” Dean was befuddled. 

“Tristan and Isolde, the greatest romance story lost to the mists of time,” Castiel remarked. “Well, not really lost, I remember every word but there is no surviving written account of it.” 

“Oh,” Dean said. “Yeah, the guy that rescued the princess then they kept sleeping with each other having accidentally drank a magical potion which made them lust for one another. Yeah, I’ve heard of that one. She was married to his uncle and he was supposed to be chivalrous and not sleep with her or something.”

“Chivalry, chastity and the calamity of love,” Castiel smiled. “The story had everything.” 

“Don’t they like die or something?” Dean asked. “Don’t remember it ending well, from what I’ve heard.” 

“The references to the epic romance talk about an ending where another Isolde, Isolde of the white hands, who marries Tristan when he gives up his forbidden lover for Isolde tricks him into thinking that his true love had abandoned him. He dies from grief and she dies when she sees him dead,” Castiel wrinkled his nose. “It adhere to tragic conventions, more is more I suppose.” 

Something Castiel had said gave Dean an uneasy feeling. 

“Imagine having sex with someone just because of magic,” Dean said awkwardly. “Like that’s pretty dubious.” 

“Maybe the magic is the pretence and not the sex,” Castiel said after a moment’s silence. “Maybe the magic is the lie and the love making the truth.” 

Dean stared at Castiel and Castiel stared back. There were words climbing to the tip of Dean’s tongue, readying to fling themselves over the cliff and be spoken. 

“Hello!” The drawn out vowels like a birdsong warbled through the air. Rowena rushed up to them, with a very big hat on her head, her face sunkissed, her matching luggage dragged by Sam. “Oh my dears, my darling dear little angel and hunter, you’re both here. Like salt and pepper mills, the adorable couple, incomplete one without the other. We have gifts. I hope you like English fudge and painted seashells.”

Sam gave Dean a hug and patted Castiel on the back. Unlike Rowena who merely freckled in tones of strawberry and pink, Sam had gotten a slight tan that brought out the hazel of his eyes, his hair a shade lighter than before. 

“We’ve been holding down the fort while you two cruised,” Dean said, popping the boot of the Impala open to shove in what luggage he could on top of the hidden cache of weapons. 

“It was no holiday,” Rowena said blithely. “We chased the clues of the Erotes up high mountains and down sandy beaches, hardly stopping to catch our breath and only sometimes having the time for a cocktail. You will be dazzled by all that we have found.” 

“Did you find him? The god of love? The one the furies told us about that’s been crossing into our world?” Dean asked as the passengers settled into the backseat. 

Rowena paused in passing a jar of pickled eels and a candle hand labelled Santorini Sunset to Castiel. 

“The gods of love, plural,” Rowena sighed. “There’s a whole retinue of them, the servants of Aphrodite. You boys have encountered a whole bunch of them already, all relatives, taking advantage of the chaos Chuck left us in and the thinning veils between the worlds to spread their love like a disease.” 

Dean shuddered. “That sounds gross.” 

“They are desire personified,” Sam said. “More powerful than demons, more unpredictable than angels. And kind of twisted and eccentric.”

“They do weird shit, got it,” Dean looked in the rearview, Castiel was pulling the book he had purchased out of its brown paper covering. The angel stared at the cover of the book almost cross eyed. “Careful Cas, your pretty face might get stuck that way if the wind changes.” 

“I purchased this for a reason,” Castiel said, turning the book over and over in his hands like he was surprised to see it. “I cannot recall the reason.” 

“Let me see,” Rowena took it from his hand. “Oh, I know this writer, I like her work. Charlene Fury, hmmm....” 

Sam’s brows knotted. “Is that ... a pseudonym for Charlie Bradbury?” 

“Charlie Bradbury sounds more like a pen name but yes, it does sound like the work of the furies,” Rowena shrugged. “Maybe they’ve moved on from fan fiction to pulp romance. Sounds up their alley, gotta keep yourself entertained or the apocalypse might just feel like an eternity. Oh, I haven’t read this one.” 

The man on the cover had glowing blue eyes, the sort of strong jaw line that seemed ever popular for romance covers and sharp incisors. The font spelling out “Alpha Angel” in splashy red letters looked half ominous half cheap horror. The author’s name was in cursive lacy lettering so convoluted it was difficult to make out the alphabet. 

“Chrys is not just any alpha, he was half angel half werewolf. When his paths cross with an assassin hunting his father’s killer, Chrys falls head over heels for the determined omega Dominik Wanderer. Fighting his desire to knot and breed with the dangerous Dominik, Chrys must bring his one true omega to heel.” Rowena’s lilting voice read out the blurb dramatically. “Wow, Castiel, didn’t think you’d be into omegaverse. I have a nice little collection in my condo library that I could lend you if you wish.” 

“What is omegaverse?” Castiel asked, his voice grave. Dean tried to focus on the driving but he was listening intently to that conversation 

“Oh you know sub-genre of romance erotica type fiction. Based on werewolves, there are alphas dominating masculine types and omegas who are the opposite. The whole plot revolves around mating with a sprinkling of assassin AUs or coffee shop meet cutes or I don’t know medical kink,” Rowena said blithely. “Pick and mix your own romance tropes with a side of knotting. Big penises and very wet p...” 

Sam coughed. “Sometimes it is different pairings, different genders, same gender.” 

“I see,” Castiel said. “Is it possible to be cursed to exhibit omegaverse instincts and have the adapted physical characteristics of this ... sub-genre?” 

“Hardly a sub-genre,” Sam frowned. “Kind of popular.” 

Dean wondered how Sam knew that but didn’t want to ask. 

“One of the oldest curses and a popular one for the likes of the furies is the ‘fuck or die’ curse,” Rowena said with distaste. “I prefer the ‘love potion curse’ as an alternative name. You know, like in the Arthurian romances, like in Tristan and Iseult.” 

Dean screeched the Impala to a halt, promising her an upgrade of break pads under his breath. 

“Not the furies,” Dean exclaimed. “Not the fucking furies, its the gods, the god! Blue eyes! Butterflies.” 

Then he did a u-turn and took off for the hospital. 

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Inias stood up from the bedside slowly. He had been on his knees, head bowed and praying when the two hunters, one witch and one angel entered. Carefully, Inias placed the white bandaged hand of Tristan down on the bed. 

“Castiel, Dean and Sam!” Inias said with a confused smile. “And this lady I do not know.” 

“Rowena McLeod sweet angel, now stand back,” Violet rays came out of her fingertips like some sort of Dark Sith power but prettier and with a little more flashiness. 

She smirked as the bandages on Tristan burnt in vivid purple flames. Inias instinctively put his hand out to stop the fire and realised it did not burn. It did nothing but to peel away the slivers of cotton, revealing perfect pristine skin beneath. The bandages over Tristan’s face was the last to flutter away. 

“Misha?” Dean called out. “That’s fucking Misha, from that other world.” 

Castiel shook his head. “Not Misha, though I see why you say that, it is his body but what’s left of him is not in control.” 

“I want you all to go,” Inias stood up, fumbling a red cardigan out of an overnight bag stowed on an armchair. He draped the jacket over Tristan’s shoulders. “He needs to recover. He is my Tristan, not this Misha or anyone else.”

“Look at his aura Inias, look with your own eyes,” Castiel insisted. 

Inias shook his head. “I see only my love.” 

“His name is Anteros,” Sam said. “The leader of the Erotes.” 

“It means Unrequited Love,” Castiel said with a sympathetic look on his face. “Inias, he is the god of unreturned love. He has a bow and arrow. Butterfly wings that allow him to fly. He seek revenge on those who do not return the love they receive. He is wicked, wild god.” 

“Did you do this? Did you curse them with the ‘knot or die’ curse?” Rowena asked, holding out her hands threateningly. 

The man in the bed turned periwinkle blue eyes on the assembly. “Hey, can I uh have some water?” 

Inias rushed forward. “Tristan, here.” 

Tristan drank the proffered paper cup. “Thank you my love,” he said looking at Inias with wonder in his eyes. “I appreciate all your have done for me. All the prayers that gave me strength. All the worship of your love. You are a worthy companion.” 

When Tristan turned his face back towards Dean, he sang an old song “Oh lady in blue, oh my lonely lady”. 

Then those blue eyes sparkled with mirth as he continued off tune. “Will we ever meet again, Or is this just a one night stand? Hiya Cas, Hello Dean.” 

“You were the woman in blue, as the boogeyman business, you cursed us,” Dean said and like the unwinding of magic as the words were spoken all his memories came rushing back. The roadside matings, the motels and the motel beds. Judging by the sudden bloom in Castiel’s cheeks he remembered too. Like people who had just walked out of a hedge maze, Dean and Cas were looking back at their own memories seeing the whole picture and wondering how they ever got so turned around by something so simple. 

“Did you know it was a ‘knot or die’ curse? Of my very own invention,” said Tristan, or Anteros, whatever his name was, the guy wearing Misha like a fine suit. “But I suppose neither of you ever got anywhere near the dying part, there wasn’t even a hint of resistance. You bred your omega like a raging alpha Castiel. And you Dean, you submitted before he even had to ask. Hope you both enjoyed the knotting. It’s the new craze.” 

“The fire,” Castiel said. “Why did you burn? Was it because we burnt your cocoon, back then in zombie ville?”

Anteros gave a seductive throaty laugh. 

“Gotta thank you guys for that,” he said with Misha’s soft lilt. “Fires and gods are not so different to one another. You might has seen it as destruction, but I rose from it, it was my ascension. Every time I grow in power, I burn. Just like the pangs of love.” 

Inias was ashen. “You were feeding off my grace, you burnt up in the car because you had extracted enough of it.” 

“You poured it into me, and kept feeding me, my love,” Anteros said. “You worshipped me long before we met, long before we touched. Our coming together was the end of a ballad of longing. How long have you wanted Castiel? How long did you pray for his love, the impossible love that he would never give to you, not when he had given his all to Dean Winchester. You were a worthy song in a sea of clamorous noise. I love you and I alone can be the commander of your heart.” 

Inias took out his angel blade then, his eyes ablaze and brimming tears at once. “I will smite you, the way my commander showed me how to smite demons.” 

Anteros looked sorry and waved his hand. The blade dissolved into a swarm of blue butterflies, battering hard against the windows and falling dead onto the sills. 

“Knot or die,” Anteros shrugged his shoulders. “Killing me won’t break the spell.”

“Of course not,” Rowena folded her hands, she was smiling and Dean gave her confused looks. “Because no such spell exists. It is unbreakable because it is impossible.” 

Anteros raised his eyebrows. “Clever witch.” 

“There was no curse, it was a curse of befuddlement,” Rowena said to Dean and Castiel. “A memory curse, you two would have wanted each other regardless, the spell just gave you certain omegaverse perceptions and concepts. It has only one purpose. To make you question your desires. To taint your love.” 

“I am a god of love, I do not destroy it,” Anteros retorted. “I treasure all the lovers. I avenge the heartbroken. Those who lose their unattainable one true love.” 

“That’s another lie,” Sam stepped forward. Dean raised his eyebrows when Sam took Rowena’s hand in his. “There’s deep love and loss when they die, but love isn’t a singular occurrence. It can happen again.” 

Castiel narrowed his eyes, gaze flicking from Rowena to Sam and back again to Dean with mild panic. Dean lifted his shoulders and pulled his ‘idunno’ face. 

“And you of all creatures should know love is a sacrifice,” Inias said, stepping forward, wrapping his arms around Anteros.

The angel gripped Antero tight by the shoulders, sealed his mouth to steal Antero’s surprised breath, for a second shafts of bright light the shape of ginormous feathers filled the room, then there was the sound of atmospheric disturbance and both Inias and Anteros disappeared. 

“He flew away,” was all Castiel said. 

“He was protecting us,” Sam huffed out a breath. 

“Or Anteros,” Dean said darkly. 

“Or both,” Rowena nodded. “He’ll be back, a capricious god like that, he’s not done.” 

“Great, got another one, like Chuck wasn’t enough,” Dean grunted. 

When they all piled into the car, Rowena insisted it was her turn in the driver’s seat. “You boys get some rest.” 

Sam stretched out his long legs beside her and smiled at her as she put on soothing classical music. He flipped idly through the pages of the paperback Castiel had purchased, while Dean and Castiel sat in the back seat together, legs pressed against one another without a thought. 

“What did self-lubrication feel like Dean?” Sam asked innocently. 

Dean reached over the seat and swatted Sam on the head. 

Castiel tried not to smirk, turning to look out the window, the reflection of his blue eyes against the darkened glass startling. Dean thought about kissing Castiel, thought about biting him on the neck and thought about how it was going to feel like the first time. Un-accursed. 

How could those gods get it so wrong. Love was free will.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

I wander alone across the park, the shadow of lovers everywhere in the trees and by the streams, for it was midsummer and the humans were foolish with love. 

There is the woman who will be spurned, there the man who will spurn her, here the maiden who will be lonely and there the burnt feathers of my angelic knight sighing my name on the wind. 

I had enjoyed his worship, his sweet words and sweeter thoughts. The longing and the desperate despair when he discovered who I am. 

There is something worth savouring more than love. Love unreturned, and that is me, Anteros. 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Episode 12 will be by FloCasbean as Dean and Cas continue their adventure ...
> 
> [So I inherited this ep when the lovely original author had to drop out, so the plot idea of a ‘fuck or die’ curse was a bit of a gift. Evelyn and I chatted and decided to make it a ‘knot or die’ curse trope. So due to the plot and what it calls for, this fic is more explicit than what I usually write, uh, yep.]


End file.
